you want to save the world and make use of the complicated. let’s bemoan and let’s be pathetic. let’s depress the objectively deflated and inflate the pathologically insane. figure eight shows you the picture of a duck with training wheels, carefully imagining itself in a world of mass hunger and rabid determination. we’re starving our flocks to write this story and so you should keep being inept and press the ‘donate now’ button. it makes me feel good when i tell you this; it makes you feel even better when you jump aboard this ideological 747 with me. i, you, them, we, deity. all fabrications, with green smokestacks, emitting a purple wave of eccentricity with a positive charge and forty-four days left to procreate. subliminal delineations, danger. squeeze, tighten, fortify, splendor. adapt.
what is the generation thunder that roars beneath your feat, you incredulous tiger of misaligned ubiquity. ask. question. depress. you test your capacity to enlarge by postulating the maturity levels of iron at seven, 4 and thirty-3 years. impossible is possible, just think about it… just make it possible. it’s insanity (all over) when i hear you yelp from across the road, asking for help, disguised in a matter-of-fact gluten-free substance, poised to penetrate. you wish to change, to manage, to massage, to exacerbate, to complicate, to memorize, to show frigid temperatures how to fake the orgasm of amorous professions. or maybe you want none of these things and all of them at once, a paradox among the living, a choice dilemma that confounds the unannounced forces of faux-finished material textures.
go, for yourself, for others, for the benefit of the corrupted few who hold power, devour powder, speak louder, excrete madness and impose the word “rather.” how do you echolocate the entire sound alphabet, as it is spoken by a demented goat, born out of wedlock, its original creator a combination of an acidic substance and an opulent fissure of the most pernicious (but promiscuous) existence. light is a ray and if photos are edible, your subconscious and maniacal tendencies and contrived proclivities can all continue taxing the willing, at the expense of increasing your exposure to risk-free ultraviolet machinations. print, copy, x.
ambivalence is an investment, a radical departure from the convenient features of yesterday, a realization that tomorrow will undertake to completely water-down your nightmares while accentuating your dreams to the point of an introverted culmination of fat-free lipids and kleptomaniac-like reward schemes. but you continue, you continue along the predetermined path of your ethically challenged 99-meter sprint towards dystopia. or perhaps i have become more adept at storytelling than you used to be. possibilities are exponentially raised to import suspicion, but in your case, you infer speculation, add hyperbolic sensationalism and remind your opponent that within the farce that exists the orifice of comedic brilliance, there exists something that is not only available and you can call your own, an offspring, a progeny of mild-mannered motivators, but something that none of us can ever internalize, even if by means of employing harsh light and enlightened inconspicuousness.
my solutions are equally blunt. i can repackage hysteria and resend it. i can .pdf your mannerism and send it back to you, equally possible, especially when reply-all stares the effects of destiny directly in its jealous (and esthetically morbid) face. you have chosen out of a lack of choices. you have created your demise by failing to foresee possible (and expected) alternatives. and now i wish to implode and sideline my own detrimental (to your health) -isms for the sake of procuring a toothless lion, enclosed in a hamster cage, with the same help mode as a surrogate 19th century barn fly.
car keys. please.